Age of Inheritance
by Spades27
Summary: So, what happens when an escapee from the Age of Apocalypse finds himself stranded in Alagaesia? The answer is violence, with a side of god-complex. Click here to find out whether or not this was just a shameless attention grabber. Rated M for language, violence.
1. Chapter 1

Hello new readers, Spades here. So, I love the X-Men, and have always wanted to write an X-Men story arc. This isn't it. This was an idea that somehow got lodged in my head, so I wrote it down. Now I've decided to share it with you guys and see what you think. I've got like nine more chapters ready, but I'm going to wait and see how this does before I upload them. So I'll stop talking now and let you get to reading.

**Chapter 1**

The Pens reeked. Not that he really noticed anymore. One quickly lost all sense of smell in the breeding pens. He supposed he was lucky in a way. If it wasn't for Sinister's intense interest in his... _unique_... abilities he would probably have been given to the Beast. Or been vaporized. Not that Sinister was merciful by any stretch of the imagination, but at least this way he was still mostly sane and in one piece. The young man tried to sleep. He tried to sleep a lot these days, saving his energy for the excruciating experiments his captor liked performing for hours on end. He really should have broken by now, either from the experiments or the Brain Trust that kept most of the prisoners nice and docile. He guessed he could count himself lucky that way too. Once again his powers came to the rescue. It turned out having a mind wired to perceive four dimensions instead of the usual three made it pretty hard for Apocalypse's pet hive mind to maintain control of him. _Really_, the young man thought, _I've been stupidly lucky this whole time. Well, aside from getting caught_. He'd been hiding out in the Appalachians when that Infinite patrol had spotted his little shack. Seeing smoke, the green clad little wind up soldiers had decided to investigate, a fatal lapse in judgment on their part. Unfortunately he'd been sloppy and hadn't fully severed one's wind pipe, allowing the engineered meat bag to gasp out a request for help before bleeding out onto the dirt. So he'd grabbed his bailout bag and ran. They sent a platoon after him, which he'd killed rather easily. So a couple of augmented flatscans were sent with the next platoon. Bastards had almost gotten the drop on him. Emphasis on almost. He'd managed to kill that platoon as well, but after thirty six hours of almost constant running and fighting he was starting get worn out. So when the _next_ platoon of Infinites showed up with an alpha in tow he'd been well and truly fucked. Still, the young man felt a twinge of pride remembering how he'd managed to gut the bastard and most of the goons before Sinister showed up. Sleep deprived and hilariously outgunned, he hadn't stood a ghost of a chance against the horseman. It had been ten months since then. Ten months in hell. He knew it had been ten months because a side effect of his powers was always knowing the time. But he was still alive, which was a hell of an achievement considering Apocalypse had a standing kill order against all chrono-variant mutants. As long as he was alive there was a chance for escape. Not that many people had ever made it out of the pens. Security was tight, and Apocalypse's boot licking goons made sure to keep a tight and brutal watch on the inmates. He really hoped he ran into the Guthries on his way out. All the guards took a lot of pleasure in beating the prisoners, or gene-traitors as they preferred to call their fellow mutants. But the Guthries were particularly vicious, often beating people to death. In fact, they probably would have forced him to show his hand two weeks ago had Sinister not intervened. His cracked ribs still ached whenever he took a breath. He surreptitiously tested the point on the shiv he had managed to make. Finding the materials for its construction had been damn near impossible, and keeping it a secret had been even harder, but it was his ace in the hole. His powers gave him a serious edge in combat, but bare hands were still useless against anyone with damage mitigating abilities. Fortunately, very few mutants were immune to having a pointy object shoved into their brain via eye socket.

His musings were interrupted by a massive distortion in space-time coming from higher in Apocalypse's tower. It was like a star to his senses, emitting so much chronological radiation he could practically taste it. Whatever this..._thing_... was, it was unimaginably powerful. It felt like all of time was sitting just above his head, pressing down on him. It was a sign. He would have to make his move soon. With something like that so close, how could he _not_? A bell rang, signaling the daily meal. It wasn't much, just a tube of nutrient paste carefully measured to provide exactly enough nourishment to keep someone alive. He quickly finished his tube and looked around for another one to swipe. The guards didn't care, and there were so many prisoners that had either gone insane or given up, finding a supplement to his daily meal was fairly easy. That it was an application of Apocalypse's philosophy on its smallest scale was not lost on him, but he actually stood a chance of escaping. So he ignored the faint whisperings of his long dead conscience and focused on gathering his strength. He knew he would need it.

Two days later the young man woke up to the sounds of revolution. Prelate Summers stood on a walkway above the pens with a red headed woman, gesturing madly towards the laser grids. The _deactivated_ laser grids. The young man smiled wolfishly and swiftly joined the stampede towards freedom. He could hear the sounds of battle taking place. _Must be a hell of a fight_, he reasoned, _if we can hear it all the way down here_. He was almost to the exit when he felt it. A convulsion in time and space, originating from from whatever that thing was that had been brought in last week. The young man paused, just a few steps away from freedom. He _could_ just walk out the door and finally escape. He'd dreamed of this moment for months. He'd wanted it more than anything, but the anomaly's call was like siren's song. _What could possibly be that powerful?_ Against his better judgment he started to turn around. Slowly at first, he started walking back into the bowels of the nightmarish citadel, his every instinct screaming at him to turn around and run. The young man broke into a run, driven onward by his curiosity. He passed by scores of dead Infinites, pausing only to grab a handgun. Anything larger would slow him down too much, and thankfully the energy weapons didn't need reloading. Or recharging for that matter. Truly the wonders of technology never ceased. He worked his way upwards, gleefully slaughtering patrols where he found them. Soon, the young man found himself arriving at the mysterious anomaly's location. He was just in time to watch Magneto, the leader of the X-Men himself, use his powers to _tear Apocalypse in half!_

"Holy shit!" He whispered, his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene. Behind Apocalypse's slowly cooling remains was a giant pink crystal, clearly the source of the distortions. He stepped forward, entranced by the crystal, only to feel something massive and furry slam into him. Stars flashed before his eyes and the young man groaned in pain as he bounced off the wall. Only instinct kept him alive as he reflexively threw himself into a diving roll. Spinning around, he spotted his attacker.

"Oh look, it's the Beast's bitch," he sneered.

"That's Lord Sinclaire to you, gene-trash!" The massive lupine mutant snarled.

"It's really cute how you think a fancy title makes you something other than the filthy mongrel you are." The young man mocked as he started to circle to his left, making sure to keep both Rahne Sinclaire and the massive pink crystal in view. Sinclaire's elegant response was a bestial howl and another charge. The young man slipped out his shiv and dodged to his left, firing with the stolen energy pistol in his right hand. Unfortunately, all the energy blasts did was piss the large werewolf-like mutant off. As Prelate Sinclaire spun around, trying to slash him with her razor sharp claws he used his powers to stop time. In an extremely unfortunate coincidence, this was the exact moment when the M'kraan Crystal unleashed a universe rewriting time wave. As a brilliant wave of white light erupted from the crystal the young man realized what was about to happen. He barely had time to mutter,

"Oh shit" before the wave slammed up against his bubble of frozen space-time and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Good news everybody! I've decided that this story has gotten enough traffic for me to keep uploading. So here's the second chapter for your reading pleasure. I should have mentioned this earlier, but (shockingly) I don't own either Eragon or the X-Men, so please don't sue me. Oh, and reviews are always welcome.

**Chapter 2**

As the young man regained consciousness the first thing he noticed was the itchiness of the grass on his face. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on grass. And the sun was shining. And the air didn't smell like shit and despair. All in all, it was a pretty great way to wake up, especially after the hell that was the breeding pens. He sat up and checked to make sure all of his bits and pieces were in the right place. Luckily, everything seemed to be in working order. Or as close as could be expected considering the life he'd had. He was still wearing the thin gray pants and shirt he'd been issued in the pens, which brought a look of disgust to his face. Luckily the tattered blanket he'd managed to turn into a poncho was still wrapped around his shoulders. Looking around, he was pleased to see the the pistol he had swiped was lying on the ground a few feet away. Luckily there was no sign of Rahne Sinclaire, so he began to survey his new surroundings. He had landed in what appeared to be some kind of alpine valley and judging by the size of the peaks around him the young man was fairly confident that the temperature would plunge rapidly once it got dark. The clearing he had landed in was fairly small, with wild grasses and some small bushes blasted flat in a circle around where he was now standing. A soft burbling sound could be heard coming from somewhere nearby. Following the sound of rushing water, he soon came to a small river. The young man knelt down at the water's edge and plunged his head into the clear water, taking a long drink and hoping that he wouldn't contract giardia. His thirst sated, he pulled his head out of the water. Seeing his appearance for the first time in almost a year, he paused and took a closer look. A little over a decade of hard, violent living under Apocalypse's rule followed by almost a year of near starvation had left him with a hardened, gaunt appearance. His cheek bones stood out prominently below his flinty gray eyes, which glowed faintly thanks to his mutant powers. His light brown hair had grown long and shaggy during his imprisonment and hung down past his shoulders. He resolved to cut it as soon as he found something sharp enough to do the job. With a sigh he stood up and stretched, for the first time noticing how pale he was, with his skin stretched tightly over what lean, hard muscle he had left. Suddenly a large shadow passed over head, causing him to dive for the cover of the nearby treeline. Looking up, he was mildly shocked to see what appeared to be dragon flying past. Even more surprising, he could make out a figure riding on its back. _Interesting... _he smiled. It was time for a little reconnaissance. Grabbing his pistol, the young man started off at a steady jog, following the direction the dragon had been flying.

After a time period he judged to be an hour or so, the dragon came back into view and landed some where up ahead. The young man picked up his pace slightly, eager to discover more about his strange new circumstances. He then sped up even more when the wind shifted and carried the unmistakeable sounds of a forced march to his ears. It sounded like soldiers of some kind...lots of them. _Caught between a rock and a hard place, nice to see some things never change_ he sighed to himself. The sun had dipped behind the mountains now and the valley was starting to get pretty dark. The moon and stars wouldn't be out for a while, but the young man knew that this could easily work to his advantage. The sounds of marching soldiers could be easily heard behind him, and whoever was flying on the dragon had had the admittedly quite clever idea of dropping rocks on them. The young man began to run faster, his abused body feeling like it was on fire. Every stride sent brilliant lances of pain shooting through his cracked ribs, but adrenaline and years of living in the absurdly lethal hellhole that was the Age of Apocalypse let him push through the pain. Suddenly the young man had a flash of inspiration. _People rarely look up_ he remembered. Smiling slightly, he began to look around for a suitable tree to climb. He soon spotted one that looked promising, and as the rumble of jogging soldiers grew ever closer he scrambled up the old pine tree. Resting in a thick tangle of branches, he struggled to steady his breathing as he looked back towards where the intermittent flickering of moving shapes could be seen in the half-light of the valley. When he finally got a fairly good look at the people presumably pursuing the dragon rider, he wasn't even surprised to see that they were actually eight foot tall orcs. _So, apparently I've been teleported into a fantasy novel_ the young man snorted to himself. He idly wondered if he could get rich by inventing interior plumbing. Or guns. Eventually the army, which was really more like a largish battalion, passed his hiding spot and he climbed down. He was about to turn around and head back the way he'd come when he suddenly heard the sounds of combat. A lot of combat. Sighing, the young man turned around and started to follow the orcs' trail.

A very short while later he tripped over a body. Specifically, the body of one of the large orcs. Taking a few cautious steps forward, the young man exited the treeline and happened upon a surprisingly large battle on the shores of a surprisingly large lake. From the looks of it, the orcs had chased the dragon to shores of the lake and then been ambushed by another armed force of what appeared to be men and... fantasy dwarves. Complete with beards. He could still see the last of the rear lines charging out from behind a waterfall at the other end of the lake while arrows hissed out of cleverly hidden murder holes in the surrounding cliffs. The young man watched impassively as one of the large orcs swung a club and batted two human soldiers ten feet away into the lake.

"Huh, strong fuckers." He muttered to himself. Then he ducked. A second or two later a small ax flew through the air his head had recently vacated and embedded itself in the tree behind.

"Well, that's handy." He remarked to no one in particular as he walked over and pulled the weapon out of the tree bark. It was very practical. No decoration, just about the size of a tomahawk with a simple ax blade on one side and a hammer like weight to help with balance on the other. He liked it. Then, one of the large orcs saw him.

"Don't you even..." He muttered under his breath in warning tone as he glared at the large beast. The orc stared at him for a few seconds, then bellowed some sort of battle cry and charged at him. The young man just smiled sadistically and waited. As the orc charged towards him, he noticed that it had very large horns on top of its head, which it seemed to have instinctively lowered as it charged. Using his abilities to predict the orc's next few moves, he waited til the last second before spinning to the left under its rather obvious horizontal slash, using his newly acquired ax to hamstring his charging opponent. The orc stumbled and crashed headlong into the tree he had pried the ax out of. As the tree shook and groaned from the impact the young man swayed sideways, allowing and arrow to zip past him and bury itself in the dazed orc's arm. The large bestial being roared in pain and shook its head in an effort to clear it. Not willing to give his opponent any time to recover the young man deftly leapt forwards and buried his ax in the orc's other shoulder, destroying the socket in the process. The orc roared again and tried to stand up but its ruined leg collapsed underneath the weight, causing the orc to collapse onto the arm that had been punctured by the arrow. Seeing that the orc's only marginally good arm was now pinned, the young man casually strolled over and buried his ax in the beast's neck in a spray of blood. The orc struggled for breath as he yanked the weapon out, causing even more blood to spray out of the ruptured arteries. The young man whistled softly to himself as he wandered back towards the battle, ducking the occasional errant projectile along the way. The battle was almost over by the time he reached the largest press of bodies. A fleeing orc took a swipe at him and missed. His retaliatory swipe didn't, removing his aggressor's hand. The orc shrieked and stumbled off. He allowed it, knowing that without proper medical treatment it would soon bleed out. As the human and dwarven victors set about recovering their dead and wounded, he meandered over to a small group of men who looked a lot like officers and calmly asked,

"So...what's up?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A few of the men the young man assumed were officers readied their weapons. More of them glared at him suspiciously. And _all_ of them looked incredibly confused when they saw what he was wearing.

"Who are you, what are you doing here, and what the hell are you wearing?" A man who looked a bit more in charge than the others demanded.

"Well, let's see..." The young man replied glibly, "James, talking, and clothes." His reply didn't win him any friends.

"I _meant_, James, what were you doing here, in this place, just as we were attacked?" The boss man growled, taking a step closer and putting a hand on his sword. James' brow furrowed slightly. The man's accent was very strange, but at least he was talking English...somehow.

"Following a dragon. Then killing orcs. Now I'm talking." James answered calmly. Everybody looked at him in confusion.

"What?" He prompted.

"What are orcs?" One of the dwarves asked. James gestured to one of the many dead orcs lying nearby.

"The bastards with horns. _Obviously_." He sighed in an exasperated tone. They all switched from looking at him with confusion to looking at him like he was a complete idiot.

"Those are _Urgals._" One of the other humans volunteered in the same tone one would use to speak to an exceptionally stupid child. James successfully fought off the urge to time lock him for the next hour or so and replied,

"Well, where I'm from we'd call them orcs. Urgal, orc, potato, po-tah-to." At this point the human he had mentally dubbed 'Boss Man' cut back in.

"And what were you doing following a dragon?" He asked suspiciously.

"Well there was a flash of reality altering light and then I woke up in a clearing not too far from here and saw somebody riding on the back of a big ass dragon. What was I supposed to do? _Not_ follow it?" James asked as if that was the most ridiculous idea in the world. No one seemed to know how to react this. Growing tired of their dumbfounded expressions James pointedly readjusted his tattered poncho and asked,

"So, if you're done standing around like idiots could we continue this conversation inside. It's cold out here." Predictably, the men's expressions shifted back to suspicion and they readied their weapons again.

"What base?" Boss Man asked, glaring at him.

"Do you _ever_ get tired of sounding like an idiot? The base that you've got hidden behind the waterfall. Y'know, the one your troops came marching out of, and are currently marching back into?" James sighed. Boss Man had the decency to look a bit sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Fuck it, fine, come on in. You're going to be under guard though, so don't do anything stupid." He warned. James nodded. Putting a guard on him made sense from their perspective, and there was nothing they could actually do to stop him from leaving if he wanted. One of the dwarven officers called a few stragglers over and they stepped in to a rough star formation with him in the middle. The officers started walking back towards the waterfall with James and his guards just behind them.

As it turned out, there was a small path that led to a very large and cleverly disguised stone door just behind the waterfall. James thought that was incredibly cool, and rather clever. Waterfalls made excellent cover if you could find one with a cave behind it. They tended to be rather chilly though. After the group passed the threshold the massive stone doors silently and smoothly swung shut behind them, sealing them in and leaving them in complete blackness for a few moments before the lanterns that lined the walls turned on, bathing the massive passageway in soft blue light.

"Neat" was all James had to say. He wasn't really expecting them to have anything like electricity, but the lanterns' behavior was a good sign.

"Magic lanterns crafted by some of our finest smiths. Bet you've never seen anything like 'em, huh?" The dwarven guard on his left side bragged. James considered mentioning the many kinds of light bulbs he'd seen over the years, but decided that nobody would believe him. Besides, _technically_ he'd never seen anything like magic before either.

"Nope," he responded cheerfully. If these people had magic maybe they'd have indoor plumbing. That wouldn't be too much to hope for would it? They walked on in silence until his guards motioned for him to step through a door on his right. He did, and they followed him into a small room containing an officious but hardened looking man in what appeared to be a military uniform, and two bald creepy looking twins. James hated them on sight. His last experience with twins involved Aurora and Northstar playing volleyball with him. Twenty feet in the air over the Atlantic. Then they let him drop when they got bored. Only Prelate Summers interference had saved him from drowning. James kept his face carefully neutral as the memories brought a wave of hate and anger with them. Realizing that the black guy had started speaking, James focused his attention on his current situation.

"...name is Jormunder, and I am the leader of the Varden. My officers have told me that your name is James, and that you followed Eragon and Saphira here. For what purpose did you follow them?"

"I told you minions that already. I woke up in a clearing and saw a big ass dragon flying past with somebody on its back. So I followed it."

"Why?" The military man asked.

"Because it's a _dragon_." James explained. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the guards nod in agreement.

"So... what's a Varden?" He continued. Everyone in the room stared in shock.

"Well...we're the Varden." Jormunder answered, gesturing to everyone in the room. James looked around feeling very unimpressed.

"Yeah, but what _are_ the Varden?" He persisted. Jormunder was beginning to look a little annoyed, and he wasn't the only one.

"We're a group of freedom fighters who are trying to overthrow the mad King Galbatorix and his evil empire." Jormunder explained.

"Ummmm, I think ya might need some more guys for _that_ plan to work." James pointed out helpfully, giving Jormunder what he hoped was a winning grin. Judging by the man's faintly disturbed expression, it wasn't.

"There are others, but if you wish to meet them you'll have to submit to a search." Jormunder said through gritted teeth. James was starting to get on his nerves.

"Not much to search buddy. I've got an ax, the clothes I'm wearing, and a small keepsake." James pointed out, gesturing to his clothes, said ax, and stealthily powering down the energy pistol that he was hoping to pass off as a mere sculpture.

"I meant that my associates here will search your memories to make sure that you are not our enemy." Jormunder gestured to the bald twins standing next to him.

"You keep your fucking telepaths out of my head or I'll kill everyone in this room." James snarled, shifting his plundered ax into a readier position. Jormunder took a slight step back, surprised by James' sudden venom.

"I have no idea what a telepath is, but the twins are adept magi. It'll just be a quick sweep." He tried to placate the enraged James.

"Telepath, mind reader, I don't care _what_ you call them just keep them **out of my head**!" James' voice rose to a yell. The twins merely smirked, narrowed their eyes, and muttered something under their breath. A second later James flinched slightly as he felt the effects of their mind probe. His gray eyes began to glow and, to the other people in the room, what occurred next happened in the blink of an eye. To them, James suddenly appeared standing just behind Jormunder's shoulder. At the same time the twins screamed as they experienced the effects of dozens of punches and kicks all at once. They collapsed as their arms fractured, their ribs shattered, and their shins snapped.

"If anybody _ever_ tries to enter my mind without my permission again I will kill every last one of you." He with a calm malevolence.

"O-our magic users..." Jormunder began.

"Can do _nothing _to stop me. Your soldiers will be _helpless _as I massacre them. I will slaughter your wives and children, butcher your pets, and salt your fields. Stay. Out. Of. My. Head. Do you understand?" James snarled in Jormunder's ear.

"Yes." Jormunder whispered as all the other soldiers tensed and readied their weapons.

"Good," James smiled and patted the sharply dressed military man on the shoulder, "Oh put those things away boys, if I wanted to kill you I already would have. And I would _definitely_ have killed those bald freaks." He gestured towards the whimpering piles of tenderized meat that were the twins. Strangely, this didn't seem to make anybody feel better. The soldiers kept glancing nervously between him, Jormunder, and the twins until eventually the officer sighed and waved at them to put their weapons away.

"Alright, alright, fine. No mind reading. But we're going to have to lock you in a guest room until our leader can find the time to meet with you." Jormunder said.

"Does it have a bed?" James asked. He _really_ didn't want to be put in another cage, but he was tired and knew he could escape.

"Of course. It's a guest room." Jormunder replied as if it should be the most obvious thing the world. James stared at him for a few moments, searching his face for any hint of deception. Finding none, James shrugged and allowed himself to be led back out into the large passageway and deeper into the mountain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

James abruptly jerked upright.

"Aaaaggh, **mother fucker**!"

James swiftly lay back down, having forgot about the low ceiling. As he waited for the stars to clear out of his vision he wondered when he was going to get breakfast. The low ceiling-ed room he was currently occupying was pretty great, as far as jail cells went. It certainly beat the Pens. He got a bed, blankets, meals, all the comforts. Plus, the guards actually stayed outside the door. By his count it had been close to fourteen hours since they had brought him here and he was wondering if the mysterious leader guy was actually going to talk to him today. James didn't think the leader would. Had he been in the man's (or woman's, James had found that women were often better leaders than men) place James would have let himself sit and stew for a few days. As a result he was a little shocked when there was a knock on the door. _Who the hell knocks on a prisoner's door?_ He wondered.

"Yeah?" He called out, not really wanting to leave the first real bed he'd slept in in almost fifteen years.

"Our leader Ajihad will see you now." A gruff voice called out. James sighed and rolled out of bed, making sure to stand up very carefully. He walked over to the door and called out

"Alright, let's get this over with." The door jerked open and he found himself staring out at a rather large contingent of guards. Clearly Jormunder wasn't taking any chances. Not that it really mattered. James sauntered out into the middle of the pack, ignoring the many curious and disapproving stares he and his clothes received.

"Well? Shall we go?" James offered his arm to the nearest guardsman. The man gave him a confused and deeply disturbed expression, causing James to chuckle. He noticed that several guards shivered when they heard it. James' smile grew even wider, knowing that his gravelly voice was the cause. A year or so of isolation, followed by ten months of screaming in pain for hours a day had really done a number on his vocal chords. They set off down the low hall. In fact, he suspected that most of this complex the Varden were using had been constructed by dwarves. Humans tended to prefer higher ceilings.

Eventually the group exited the cave complex and James found himself gazing out across a surprisingly large city constructed inside a what was either a very oddly formed caldera, or a hollowed out mountain. Either way, it was damned impressive to look at. He whistled softly.

"Not bad. Nice place to set up camp." He admitted softly. One of the dwarven guards managed to hear him and proudly boasted,

"Aye. This is Tronjheim, the greatest city ever constructed." James doubted that. This place had nothing on most cities back on Earth, aside from its location. Well... it didn't back when they were still intact. He and his entourage headed down into the city proper, taking main thoroughfares that were lined with people looking like they had just come from a parade. Weird. More than a few of the bystanders gave him odd looks, but he ignored them. As they approached a large central tower with four avenues leading off of it they passed the dragon he had followed here. The large blue beast was rather majestic, what with its vibrant blue scales that shimmered in the light. It was accompanied by a teenager who looked more than a little awestruck by the city around him. All of his guards muttered in awe, and a few of them even bowed. _Idiots,_ James thought, _getting distracted like that is just sloppy_. He simply stared disinterestedly at the over grown lizard. He had seen enough crazy shit for this to leave him completely unfazed. The boy and the dragon finally noticed him. The teenager gave him a curious look, to which he replied with a predatory smile. The dragon, he noticed, visibly flinched and growled in his direction while a little bit of smoke wafted from its nostrils. Turning away he focused on the large ornate doors to which he was being led. Stepping through them, he saw a tall noble looking black man sitting behind a very expensive looking desk that was covered in sheaves of paper. Poor guy looked like had a headache already. Taking notice of James and his minders, the man stood.

"I am Ajihad. Leader of the Varden."

"And I'm James, no titles to speak of." He responded cheerfully as he leaned back into one of the chairs in front of Ajihad's desk. One of the guards hissed at at this, and James could have sworn he saw one of Ajihad's eyes twitch ever so slightly. He smiled up at the man as pleasantly as he could.

"So...James... why won't you submit to a memory check? I assure you, you will be in no danger." Ajihad got right down to business.

"Because I've had some very bad experiences with telepaths before. Where I'm from our ruler uses them to keep most of the population docile." James explained. Not the whole truth of course, but it was close enough. Hearing this, Ajihad pursed his lips, looking more than a little appalled. As any reasonable being would be.

"The purpose of the memory check is to ensure you aren't an agent of Galbatorix. _If_ you're telling the truth, I can see why you would be reluctant to allow another into your mind, but this really isn't negotiable." Ajihad explained levelly. James chuckled and leaned forward in his chair.

"Let me ask you something. How many spies have you caught?" He asked.

"Enough to require us to take prequations." Ajihad replied warily.

"Right. Now, of all those spies, how many of them tried to sneak in by walking up to a group of officers and asking 'what's up'?" James inquired.

"Not many. Is there a point to this?" Ajihad was starting to sound annoyed now.

"Yeah. Bear with me here. Now, out all the spies you've ever discovered, how many of them beat the ever loving shit out of two spell casters at once and then threatened to kill every living thing in your mountain?" James asked.

"None." Ajihad replied through gritted teeth.

"Bingo. If I _was_ a spy, I would literally be the shittiest spy ever. Of all time. Because now you know that I'm dangerous and are probably going to have me accompanied by at least one guard everywhere I go. And probably a sniper on over-watch just in case. Also, I know for a fact that I'm wearing the strangest clothes you've ever seen. That's because I'm foreign." James triumphantly concluded what he felt to be a flawless piece of logic. Ajihad steepled his fingers and stared at James with a calculating expression. James stared back with an I'm-right-and-we-both-know-it expression. Eventually Ajihad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I am forced to conclude that you are most likely telling the truth. Your clothes are indeed unlike anything I've ever seen, and you're absolutely right about how you're going to be under guard everywhere you go. But more importantly, why did you injure the twins, and how did you do it so quickly?" James shrugged nonchalantly.

"I kicked the shit out of them because they tried to get into my head without permission. I thought that would be obvious by now. And to answer your second question, I used by hands and feet." Ajihad groaned.

"I meant, what sort of magic did you use to be able to do it so fast? Not even elves are capable of feats like that."

"Oooh you have elves here too? That's so cool. Wait... are they the tall sexy Tolkien elves or the tiny amoral baby stealing elves?" James sat upright, his eyes bright with curiosity. This place was just getting cooler by the second. It had dwarves, dragons, elves, and orcs. He wondered if he'd landed in Middle Earth.

"...What?" Ajihad was completely blindsided by this sudden change of topic. James sighed and mirrored Ajihad's nose pinch maneuver from earlier.

"Eleves. Describe them please. And can I meet one? That would be kick ass."

"Umm, tall and graceful with pointy ears. And no, you _definitely_ will not be allowed to meet the only elf present. She'd probably kill you for insulting her."

"I doubt it." James smirked. Ajihad gave him an incredulous look.

"Don't. Elves are far stronger and faster than humans or dwarves. You wouldn't stand a chance. Now, what magic did you use to disable the twins?" He insisted. James smiled slightly. Now he just _had_ to meet this elf.

"Tell you what. I'll tell you if you tell me why this Galbatorix is so evil. Oh! And you have to let me meet this elf." James stuck out his hand for a handshake. Ajihad stared at him with another calculating expression.

"Fine." He reached over his desk to shake James' hand. "Galbatorix is the king of Alagaesia. He used to be a dragon rider, a group of humans and elves chosen to keep peace and order throughout the land. But his dragon was slain during an urgal raid and the head Riders refused to let him see if another would hatch for him. So he slew a fellow Rider and enslaved his dragon with dark magic he learned from a Shade. He then gathered a group of like minded Riders to him and together they slew the rest of their order, along with all the dragons. Only three dragon eggs survived, and one just hatched. That is the dragon you followed here. Galbatorix had reigned for a hundred years since then." Ajihad looked at James with a serious expression.

"His crimes are many, and we seek to slay him and restore peace and order across the land." James frowned.

"So... let me get this straight. This one guy killed an entire order of his peers, then created an empire, which you seek to overthrow. I have two problems with that. One: if a small group managed to kill an entire order of their peers, the rest of the Riders must have been pretty fucking incompetent. Second: you claim to want to restore peace and order, but are currently in the throes of a rebellion that I'm guessing is causing violence and chaos. So I'll ask again, why is he actually _evil_? From where I'm standing it looks like he just took over the reigns from a group that were clearly too weak to hold on to them." The entire room gasped with horror at James' analysis. Then the shouting started.

"He wants to kill or enslave my entire **race**!" A dwarf yelled.

"Tax collectors bleed us dry and conscript or imprison anyone who can't pay!" Another human yelled.

"He allows slavery and human sacrifice an Dras Leona!" The guard right behind him snarled. James stood up and turned around.

"Then you should have _led_ with that." He called out. Turning back to Ajihad he said,

"Don't bitch about a bunch of dead people I couldn't give less of a shit about if you're trying to sell me on you're little rebellion. Do what they did and actually bring up some human rights abuses! See, now he actually sounds _evil_ and not just ambitious." Ajihad just buried his face in his hands and muttered something. James suspected it wasn't very nice, but didn't react. Instead he flopped back into his chair and cleared his throat.

"Well, you've kept up part of your bargain," he began, "so I'll keep up mine. I made it look like I kicked the shit out of the twins instantaneously by convincing their minds to shut down for a little while. Sort of like when your really tired and you just kind of zone out." James lied through his teeth, giving Ajihad a pleasant smile the entire time. Most of the men in the room went a little pale as they listened. It was brilliant, subtle, and incredibly insidious. It wasn't even an attack really, they reasoned, it was more along the lines of a gentle nudge.

"How could you be capable of this?" Ajihad asked incredulously.

"Remember what I said about those telepaths keeping most of the population docile? Yeah, well that was a handy trick I developed to stay _not_ docile." James replied proudly.

"I... don't suppose you'd be willing to join our cause?" Ajihad asked hopefully. James considered it. On one hand, he really didn't care about these people's problems and didn't want to get stuck in a situation he couldn't get out of. On the other hand he needed the resources they could provide.

"I have a few conditions. One: stay the hell out of my head. That should be obvious by now. Two: I'll work _with_ you, not _for_ you."

"There's a difference?" Ajihad interrupted.

"Yeah, that means instead of just giving me orders you politely ask me to do something, and I'll probably acquiesce. Three: I'm going to need some gear. And four, I want to be paid." James finished. Ajihad glared at him.

"What makes you think you can dictate terms to me?" He asked, somehow managing to keep his temper under control. James smiled and stopped time.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys, here's your new chapter. Not much to say in this note other than I own neither the Inheritance Cycle nor X-Men. Helpful reviews are always appreciated. Now read on!

**Chapter 5**

As time came to a screeching halt the world took on a lightly bluish-purple hue. James had always found that interesting. He calmly walked over to the nearest guard and relieved the man of the dagger on his belt. Then, with the knife in hand, he walked back to Ajihad's desk and slammed the point onto the wood between Ajihad's fingers. Due to the unique physics of a time stop only things he was physically touching could have kinetic energy, which was why the knife wouldn't actually penetrate the wood until time resumed. It was the same reason why the attacks he had performed on the twins didn't take effect until he had allowed time to restart. James then turned and walked over to the Varden leader's book case and removed a tome at random, allowing time to resume as he flipped it open. Ajihad blinked and then jumped back when he realized there was now a knife quivering between his fingers. He and the guards looked around in a panic for a few seconds until they realized James calmly standing behind Ajihad taking a good look at the written language of this Alagaesia place.

"That's why I can dictate terms to you. Because you _really_ want me as an ally." James said calmly, not bothering to look up from the book. His gift of foresight would let him know if anyone was going to attack him. Ajihad actually snarled this time.

"_Fine_! But I expect you to listen and show respect to me and my second in command Jormunder, as well as anyone I assign to work with you."

"Of course. Unless, of course, whoever you assign to work with me annoys me too much or is straight up incompetent. Now, shall I clear out and let you get back to work?" James smirked and snapped the book he was reading shut.

"Yes. Guards, take him to get some new clothes and equipment, and _don't_ let him out of your sight." Ajihad growled, massaging his forehead with one hand knowing that there was absolutely nothing they could do stop James from leaving if he wanted to. James simply smiled and walked past the guards to the large wooden doors, throwing them open with an extravagant flourish.

"Come on gents, I need a new pair of pants." He called to the guards at his back as he began to walk down the avenue. The guards hustled to keep up with him, and one of the dwarven ones trotted up beside him.

"Follow me, I'll show ye where ta get some new clothes. And stay out o' me head." The short stocky man growled.

"No problem pal. I make it a point to keep out of people's after I pulled my signature trick on a guy once and got a really good picture of what he and his sister had been doing the previous night. If ya catch my drift." James replied airily. The dwarf turned and gave him a very disturbed look.

"Yeah... that was my reaction too." James nodded sympathetically. They walked in silence until the reached a shop that sold clothes. James walked inside and sauntered up to the proprietor, an older matronly lady with a weathered face and warm smile.

"Hi!" He smiled at her, causing hers to shrink slightly, "I need a a durable pair of pants, a comfortable shirt that's easy to move around in, a fashionable vest, preferably leather, and something like this poncho I'm wearing, only not so beat up." He rattled off quickly. The woman looked him up and down then pulled out a tape measure.

"Alright, stand on that box over there. I'll see what I've got." James did as she asked, and the woman wrapped the tape measure around his waist, shaking her head slightly at how malnourished he was. A couple more measurements for his legs and chest and the lady walked over to a stack of durable looking tan shirts and pulled one out.

"Try this on and tell me how it fits. I'll go see if I've got a pair of pants in your size." The lady tossed the shirt to him and walked towards the back of the store. James shrugged and pulled off his ragged poncho and dirty shirt from the pens, exposing his upper torso. Several guards behind him gasped, and more than a few turned slightly green. James turned to look at them, raising an eyebrow in a quizzical manner before he remembered. His entire upper body was crisscrossed with scars from Sinister's experiments and he had livid bruising across his ribs from his encounter with Sinclaire.

"By Guntera's beard lad, what the hell happened to you?" One of the dwarves breathed, clearly horrified. James gave him a manic smile.

"Sinister happened." He answered cryptically, before quickly pulling on his new shirt just as the shop owner walked back in carrying two pairs of durable pants just like he'd asked for.

"Ah! Perfect." He smiled and held out his hand. "The shirt fits perfectly by the way." The lady smiled back and handed him the pants.

"Delighted to hear it dear," She replied, "now let me go fetch a screen so you can try those on." James suddenly looked slightly uncomfortable.

"You...umm, you wouldn't happen to sell underwear would you?" At this both the woman and his guards gave him odd looks. Seeing this he frowned at them.

"Hey, it's not like they give you spares when you're in prison." He pointed out. The shop owner just shrugged and headed towards the back of the shop, saying,

"Yes, I have underwear in stock. I'll be right back with them and the screen." A few seconds later she came back with both items under her arm. Passing James the underwear, she quickly set up the screen and stepped back.

"There you are. Now try those on and let's see how they fit." James quickly did so, and was quite pleased to find that his new pants fit perfectly.

"Aahhhh, wow. Seriously, you guys have _no_ idea how great it is to have clean clothes again." James turned around and grinned at his guards. Then he snapped his fingers.

"Oh right! Can't believe I almost forgot. How about that vest and poncho?" James asked the lady.

"I've got a vest, but I have no clue what a poncho is." She called out as she dug through a pile of assorted clothing before finally pulling out a dark brown leather vest.

"This good?" She asked, showing it to James.

"Yeah, that's perfect. Very cowboy-esque." He replied, slipping it over his shoulders and buttoning it up. The lady bent down and picked up his filthy clothes.

"What do you want me to do with these?" She asked.

"Burn 'em," James replied. "But seriously, do you have anything like a poncho?"

"If you mean a cloak, then no. I don't carry cloaks, sorry." She replied.

"Damn, oh well." James sighed. Spinning around he asked the guards,

"Okay, so, how are we gonna handle payment?" Turning to the shop owner he continued, "I don't suppose you accept sexual favors?" Both the guards and the woman looked scandalized at the thought and the woman turned red and started sputtering.

"Oh _relax_, it was a joke. You people seriously need to lighten up." James chuckled.

"Ajihad gave me some money to use to get you outfitted with." One of the guards, presumably the leader, spoke up as he pulled out a small bag full of what appeared to be coins. As the man paid the shop owner James ambled over to the rest of the guards and said,

"Alright, next stop: shoes. Daddy needs a new pair of boots." Multiple guards gave him odd looks.

"Oh. Do you guys not have that saying here?"

"Ah, no, we don't." The talkative dwarf guard replied. The lead guard finished haggling over price and paid the woman while James and the rest of the group headed across the street to the cobbler's.

A little while later James walked out of the shoe store wearing a pair of durable leather boots and turned to his entourage.

"Alright gents, let's go grab some grub. I'm starving." He paused for a few seconds and his eyes took on a far away look. "Literally," he muttered, "I haven't had more than a meal a day for the last year." None of the guards actually heard what he said because the street was quite noisy, but several of them made fairly accurate educated guesses.

"Follow me. The kitchens are this way." The talkative dwarf said, stepping past him and starting to walk down the street.


End file.
